Voldemort Lives Again! Justin Law at Hogwarts?
by Random Riter11
Summary: Dark Wizards, Corrupted Souls, and Obnoxious Children. Justin is not excited about his newest assignment, hunting down "Lord Voldemort". He's even less excited about his cover - DADA Teacher at a school for Witches. But, anything for Lord Death.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Anime!verse, Justin stays firmly on the side of Lord Death. DWMA and affiliates are a secret society. English rather than Japanese is used as far as honorifics and titles and other phrases of that nature go.**

* * *

><p>The aged headmaster sat at his desk. Said desk was dark, wood and cluttered with papers, books and strange machines. Like the desk, nearly every flat surface in the room was covered either by books or a random assortment of the bizarre contraptions scattered about the room. Some ticked, some buzzed, some shot out fumes of purple smoke, but all of them were very loud. The various noises had melded into a sort of dissonant symphony, one that most people would probably find distracting.<p>

But, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, was hardly most people, and he would be the first to defend the cacophony. The familiar sound was soothing and helped him think.

And he really needed to think. Any help was appreciated.

"I suppose that anything is better than letting Madam Umbridge into the school," Dumbledore mused aloud.

"You don't know anything about this 'Justin Law' though," Phineas Nigellus' portrait replied, ever happy to play the Devil's Advocate.

"Better a stranger than a Ministry lackey," another portrait said.

"Is he even qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Phineas countered.

"It's not his qualifications I'm concerned about," Dumbledore said. "He was schooled in America and graduated when he was thirteen. Before applying for the position he took the OWLS and NEWTS, just to clear up any doubts that might surround hiring a young, foreign wizard," Dumbledore continued, "From what the test administrators have told me, he did extremely well. Much better, in fact, than he needed to for me to consider hiring him."

"He graduated at thirteen? What's his alma mater?" Phineas asked.

"The DWMA," Dumbledore said gravely.

A ripple of silent shock made it's way around the room.

"That's not possible. Their graduates never interact with us," Phineas said, shaking his surprise before the other portraits. "We don't even know if that school exists."

It was true. The DWMA was more a rumor than an actual belief. Supposedly, deep in the deserts of Nevada, there was an entire hidden city and school. However, the area surrounding the school was so hard to traverse and the wards around it so strong, that some people believed it might not even exist. But there were whispers, small bits of gossip here and there that spoke of the power the students of the DWMA possessed. That to go against a _meister _was suicide, that the school was training the next generation of Witch Hunters.

Either way, the mystery combined with the rumors led to all sorts of myths about the DWMA. And without ever having to prove themselves, a certain amount of prestige attached itself to the school.

Dumbledore didn't buy into the rumors. He doubted that the students there were any more powerful than the average wizard, even if the portion of people who claimed the school existed believed differently.

However, that didn't stop him from being intrigued by someone claiming to have studied there.

"Do you have any proof he's telling the truth?" Phineas asked.

"He has several documents that have lead me to believe him. Recommendations from teachers, and his headmaster, his transcripts, a few projects he did during his time there, things of that nature. He also says that one of his teachers is willing to speak to us to verify his claims."

"The opportunity to make contact with that school is enough incentive to at least consider him for the position," the portrait said after a few moments of thought. "Especially when the alternative is one of Fudge's lapdogs."

"Madam Umbridge teaching here is something we all wish to avoid, but I still find myself hesitant to accept him. He's only seventeen," Dumbledore said. "Technically, he's of age, but only just."

Dumbledore's aged brow furrowed as he continued. "And his timing is too good and his origins too mysterious. He may be a spy for all we know."

"Well, interview him. No matter what you decide to do, talking to him can't do any harm," said an elderly female portrait.

"I suppose you're right," Dumbledore replied.

* * *

><p>The room he was staying in was interesting, to say the least. The mirror talked, the fireplace never went out and the jug of water refilled itself every time he emptied it. Wizarding Britain was fascinating, but he wasn't sure he'd ever stay in the Leaky Cauldron again. The room, while comfortable, was a little too musty for his taste. And the pub below his room was even grimier.<p>

Justin stared mournfully at his headphones before placing them in his pocket. Magic and technology didn't mesh. He hadn't been able to listen to his music for weeks. The whole mission was unpleasant though. He couldn't use his head phones, or his dune buggy or a good portion of his abilities (Unfortunately he was limited almost entirely to magic spells. He was only allowed to use his weapon abilities in case of an extreme emergency.), and what power he was allowed had to be channeled through a piece of wood.

He held the stick up in front of him and studied it for the the sixth or seventh time. It was white, straight and measured about 13 inches long. One edge was covered in a slightly more metallic color which gave it an almost bladelike appearance. Connecting the handle to the rest of the wood was the DWMA's logo, Lord Death's mask. From what he understood, wizards and witches had some sort of core in their wands, but his was only a piece of wood.

Apparently the soul of the average witch and wizard was fairly weak so in order to perform their form of magic they had to have a source of energy to draw and amplify their wavelengths through, which had definitely made his job easier. Their dependence on their wands had resulted in techniques designed for people with souls so much weaker than his own, that even though their magic was completely different to the way he normally used his soul to fight, mastering it hadn't taken long.

He did have to use the wand though. While weak, without a certain kind of soul, their magic was impossible to perform. Lord Death had done something to the wand that allowed him to mimic their abilities by channeling his own soul wavelengths into the wood. But without it, he'd be completely incapable of using their magic.

Also, Lord Death had thought it would help him blend in with the locals.

Lord Death had suggested several other things he could have done to blend in better. But Justin had been reluctant to give up his clothing and, more specifically, his cross. He knew that walking around wearing a large cross with a skull imposed over the middle probably wasn't the best way to remain incognito, but the idea of not carrying it had been alarming to say the least. His whole outfit was a little ostentatious, but the wizards would just have to deal with it.

He pocketed the wand before sitting down on his knees. He wrapped both hands around his cross and bowed his head. A prayer filled the room.

* * *

><p>Awhile later, he stood up and brushed a thin layer of dust off his pants. Dirt happened to be another 'perk' of staying in the Leaky Cauldron.<p>

Satisfied with his clothing, he stretched and rolled his shoulders to work out the stiffness that came from sitting on his knees for so long.

The mission involved a lot more waiting than he had expected. He'd sent his application in a week ago and he'd taken his OWLS and NEWTS several days before he had actually gotten his results back. Overall just to apply for one job, it had taken him about a month of preparation. A week or so to brush up on the culture and magic itself, about a week and a half of taking tests, the next half of the week waiting for his results to get back to him and a few more days to finalize and send his application. That, plus the past week he'd spent waiting for Dumbledore to get back to him was starting to add up.

It was kind of nice, being able to stay in one place so long. Being the Death Scythe in charge of Europe gave him a lot of responsibility and he usually was forced to remain constantly on the move in order to deal with the corrupted souls that appeared all over his jurisdiction. But, even though he appreciated the break, at the same time, he was getting a little restless. He'd been staying in the same hotel for a month and, while exploring Diagon Alley had been interesting, the amount of time he'd wasted was troubling.

Lord Death had told him to completely prioritize his mission so he'd remained in Wizarding Britain as ordered. But being on assignment, didn't mean that corrupted humans had stopped appearing. He couldn't help but think that he could have been out disposing of them while he'd been waiting.

The Death Scythe shook his head and mentally scolded himself for such disrespectful thoughts.

(It only took a month and he was already allowing doubt to enter his mind? It wasn't his place to question.)

A few minutes later, Justin finished stretching and moved towards the door. It was about nine in the morning, and breakfast was probably being served in the dining area.

He set his hand on the doorknob when a burst of light filled the room. Reacting almost instantly, he moved away from the door, his arms came up to defend his face, and his knees bent as one of his legs moved back to create a more balanced stance. His eyes scanned the room before landing on his bed.

Sitting on it was a bright, red bird holding a scroll in it's beak. Justin's position relaxed a bit.

"Are you Dumbledore's Phoenix?" he asked.

The bird blinked once before dropping the scroll on the floor. The Death Scythe walked towards it and picked the piece of paper up.

_Dear Mr. Law,_

_After reviewing your application, I'm pleased to say that you are more than qualified to take up the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm interested in speaking further about your potential employment at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If it is convenient for you, I would like to schedule an interview at noon tomorrow. I will send a representative from the school, to escort you to Hogwarts, around half past eleven, if you are available._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore _

_Order of Merlin, First Class, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards, _

_Chf. Warlock, Grand Sorc., etc._

Justin read the note before turning to the phoenix. "Can you take a letter back?"

The bird bobbed its head which Justin assumed meant yes. He walked to the small desk in the corner of the room and penned a quick note.

_Dear Headmaster Dumbledore:_

_Thank you for considering me for a position at Hogwarts. I am available to interview with you tomorrow. Currently, I am staying at the Leaky Cauldron. Unless you had another location in mind, I can meet your representative there._

_From,_

_Justin Law_

_DWMA-DS-European Branch_

Justin handed the note to the bird and it disappeared in a flash of fire.

He smiled. Maybe, he'd actually be able to start his mission now.

Soon, Voldemort would be eliminated.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Justin's character is just fleshed out enough to give you an interesting foundation to work with and from there, pretty much everything is left to personal interpretation. So he's definitely a fun character to write about.**

**Anyways, apologies for any errors, grammar, cannon or otherwise. Reviews and Comments are always appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

Professor Mcgonagall glanced around at the Leaky Cauldron's shabby interior and wondered, not for the first time, if the pub was really the first thing people (especially muggleborns who were only just being introduced to wizarding society) entering Diagon Alley should see. Shaking her head, but realizing that it the entrance probably wasn't going to be moving anytime soon, she walked up to the familiar barkeeper.

"Professor, how are you?" the Tom said as she approached, recognizing her from all the times she'd escorted new students into the Alley.

"I'm well, thank you," Mcgonagall replied. "And yourself?" she asked politely.

"Good, professor, I'm doing good," the barkeeper said as he picked up a dirty rag and started polishing a glass cup, "Can I get anything for you?"

"I'm sorry Tom, I'm only here to pick someone up," the professor said, smiling apologetically. "I don't suppose you know him, Justin Law?"

"Justin?" Tom asked, setting the cup down as he asked. "Why do you need to see him?"

"The headmaster is considering him for the DADA position," Mcgonagall said.

"Really?" Tom replied, his eyebrows shooting up. "That kid?"

"You seem surprised," she said, her voice taking on a curious tone.

The bartender picked the cup up again and resumed polishing. Avoiding eye contact, he said. "I wouldn't have thought he'd be applying for a job at Hogwarts is all. He's very young."

"I must admit his age worries me," Mcgonagall said, she continued, sounding a bit skeptical, "but the Headmaster has assured me that he's very qualified."

"It's more than just his age," Tom said, setting the glass down and picking up another. "But he's nice enough, I'm sure he'll do fine, even if he is a little strange."

"Strange?" she asked.

Tom stopped cleaning and looked at her before saying,"Don't get me wrong, he seems like a good kid. Been here for a little over a month and I don't have a single complaint about him. He's quiet, well mannered, and I'm never worried about whether or not he's going to pay me, but he's," the bartender shook his head. "There's no polite way to say it, but he's a little, different."

"How so?" Mcgonagall said.

"Well the way he dresses for one, trust me, you'll understand once you meet him," Tom paused and looked behind her. "I suppose you can find out the rest for yourself, looks like he just came down."

She turned around and her eyebrows raised a bit.

Walking towards her was a blue eyed, young man in a black and gray ecclesiastical robe. His shoulders were wrapped in a white shawl and a zucchetto of the same color covered his head. Around his neck was a silver cross.

'The way he dresses indeed,' Mcgonagall thought to herself. Calling his choice in wardrobe "strange" was a bit of an understatement.

"Good morning Justin," the bartender said.

"Good morning Tom," the young man replied. His voice, while not necessarily high-pitched, was very boyish sounding, which only made him seem younger to Mcgonagall. Again, she found herself wondering if he really was as qualified as Dumbledore made him out to be. Even if he was, she wasn't sure if she believed he could handle a class of children the same age as him. Talent in a subject was one thing, but the ability to control and teach a class, that was something else entirely.

She examined him further and couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be a skull resting on top of the boy's cross.

What on Earth?

It was already bizarre, seeing a religious wizard. After the rampant witch hunts in the middle ages most all magical people had pulled away from church. But the skull covering the cross made the outfit even more questionable. The white face was eerily reminiscent of the masks Death Eaters wore.

Tom's voice pulled her from her examinations. "This is Professor Mcgonagall, I think she's here for you."

"Did the Headmaster send you?" the boy asked, turning to look at her.

"He did," she replied. "I'm Deputy Headmistress Minerva Mcgonagall, I teach Transfigurations," she held her hand out for him to shake.

"Justin Law," he said, shaking her hand. "I sorry if I kept you waiting," he said, dropping his hand and adopting an apologetic expression.

"It's fine," the Deputy Headmistress said. "I haven't been here long."

The boy nodded his head in quiet acceptance and smiled at her. "Should we be on our way then Professor?" he said.

"Indeed. Are you familiar with Floo?" she asked. "I'm not sure if they use it in America."

"I've never used it, but I know the basic theory behind it."

"It's not difficult," the professor replied, walking towards the fireplace. She reached into the container hanging near it and pulled out a small handful of silver powder. "Here, take a bit of this, throw it into the fire and say Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office."

He nodded.

* * *

><p>His fireplace flared green and a boy dressed in black and white stumbled out. The boy straightened up and brushed some ash off his shawl. Obviously unfamiliar with floo.<p>

"Mr. Law?" the headmaster asked.

The boy turned to look at him and Dumbledore couldn't help but be a little surprised at his appearance.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting from the applicant, but it definitely hadn't been someone so very religious looking.

And his eyes were the strangest color, almost purple.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," the boy said, holding his hand out to shake. "I'm Justin Law."

The headmaster clasped his hand and shook it firmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you Justin."

The fire flared again and Minerva stepped out. She looked at both of them before turning to leave the room, the boy's voice stopped her.

"Thank you for taking the time to escort me here, Professor," Justin said bowing his head lightly to her.

Well, if nothing else, the possible addition to the staff was very polite.

"Of course, it was no problem," Minerva replied. "Headmaster, Mr. Law, I'll leave you to your interview."

With that being said, she swept out of the room. The door closed behind her and the aging wizard gestured towards one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Feel free to take a seat."

"Thank you," the boy said, sitting down.

The headmaster studied him for a few seconds (the boy had perfect posture when he sat) before saying, "Why do you want to work at Hogwarts, Mr. Law?"

The boy's eyebrows furrowed and he frowned lightly. "I want to work here because there is a dangerous and newly resurrected dark wizard that needs to be put down."

Dumbledore's eyes widened minutely behind his glasses.

"You seem to be the only person actively acknowledging his existence," the boy continued. "So working at your school, and, by extension, with you, seems to make the most sense."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand Mr. Law," Dumbledore said after a few moments of silence. His tone betrayed his shock. "What is it you hope to gain by working with me?"

"I want Voldemort dead," the boy said, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. "The sooner the better. I have more important things to be doing with my time than hunting down one corrupted soul. I figured that I'd be able to find him a lot faster with your help."

Dumbledore stared at him, his expression almost unreadable even as surprise danced in his eyes.

Who was this boy?

"You came here to...kill Voldemort?" he asked. "That is a very," Dumbledore paused. "Lofty goal."

* * *

><p>"What's he like Minerva?" Professor Sprout asked. "Do you think we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"<p>

The other teachers in the lounge all paused what they were doing and listened in on the conversation. Yes, they were gossiping, yes, they knew it was juvenile, no, they didn't care.

"I don't think that I would hire him," Mcgonagall said. "But who knows what the Headmaster will decide to do."

"Did you and he not hit it off?" the other professor replied.

"We didn't talk long enough for me to formulate any real opinions about him," Mcgonagall said. "I'm sure he's likable enough, but I couldn't hire someone who's only seventeen to teach."

"He's only seventeen!?" Professor Flickwit asked.

"Indeed."

"Then there's no way he'll get the job," Sprout said.

"One would assume," Mcgonagall replied.

"Can you imagine how Severus would react is a seventeen year old boy was chosen to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? I mean, it's no secret he wants the job," Flickwit said.

"He'd be furious," Mcgonagall said. "And I'm not sure I'd blame him."

"Perhaps for the boy's sake, it's better if he isn't hired," Sprout replied. "I'm not sure anyone could withstand the sort of ire our Potions Master would throw towards them if something like that happened."

"Term starts in two weeks though," Flitwick replied. "I'm sure the headmaster is getting a little desperate."

"From what I understand," Mcgonagall said, "he either has to have a teacher by tomorrow, or the ministry will send one of theirs."

"If that's the case, then we'd better be ready to welcome Mr. Law with open arms," Flitwick said. "The ministry will never be allowed in Hogwarts."

* * *

><p>"I'm afraid that I'm not quite sure what I should do, Mr. Law," Dumbledore said. "I need all the help I can get, but you're very young. Is joining a war really something you want to do?"<p>

"I do whatever my Lord commands," Justin replied.

Dumbledore mentally sighed. The boy had been extremely evasive towards every question he'd sent his way. Justin refused to say what he could add to the war or why he was even interested in fighting in it.

_Because my Lord commands it._

_And who is this lord?_

_Though it pains me to say so, that is not relevant at this time. What matters is defeating Voldemort._

_And what makes you think that you'll be any help in doing so?_

_I have a very relevant skill set._

_And what would that be?_

_If you need to know, you'll be informed._

"Mr. Law, you're not doing a very good job of convincing me you truly want to help."

The boy paused, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. He bowed his head lightly. "You're right and I apologize."

Dumbledore gazed at him, expression unreadable.

"I do care," Justin said. "I'm here because of orders, but I do care about the people who will be affected by the war too. Maybe not as soon, but if things were to really get as bad as you say they will, then, orders or not, I would have eventually come to lend you my assistance."

That had been sincere, the Headmaster could tell. But his curiosity wasn't satisfied. "As I said before, Mr. Law, I need all the people I can find. But I don't know you. What are your talents, how can you help?"

The boy seemed almost a little self-righteous. He spoke as if his coming would be a huge turning point in the war and Dumbledore wanted to know why. Was it arrogance or confidence?

And more importantly, was his, as of yet unrevealed skill set really as helpful as the boy seemed to think it would be?

The boy stared at the Headmaster thoughtfully for a few seconds before nodding lightly to himself.

"Do you know what it is the DWMA does, Headmaster?" Justin asked.

"I'm afraid that I do not," the headmaster replied.

The boy's expression remained serious; he obviously wasn't surprised at the headmasters lack of knowledge.

He continued, "In order to enter the DWMA you have to have one of two very specific magical abilities, for now we'll call them Ability A and Ability B. When a student joins the academy they are paired with someone who possess the opposite ability, so a student with A will always be paired with a student who has B," Justin said. "Those two students will spend their entire schooling career together and their success is almost entirely based on how well the two can work together, as the school's assignments are almost impossible to complete without both abilities available to them."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore said. "And what are these powers?"

The boy paused a few moments before saying, "At this point, I'm not allowed to divulge that information."

"At this point?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, once you've heard everything I have to say and we come to an agreement of sorts, the Headmaster of my school may be willing to speak to you. If He does, in fact, decide to contact you, He will decide what we will and will not tell you."

The headmaster was very intrigued at this point. If he would really be given the opportunity to learn more about the mysterious school, then he'd be willing to listen to the boy for as long as necessary.

"Very well, I understand. Please continue."

"Our school doesn't have set age groups, instead you are ranked, based on your abilities, with either one, two or three stars, even teachers are ranked on this scale. Anyone with the right skill set can enter at any time, but none of us ever leave the school once we join."

"Never leave?" Dumbledore said.

"The DWMA is a lifelong commitment, we pledge our lives and souls to the service of our Headmaster."

That was a bit extreme, Dumbledore found himself growing a little concerned. Still, he asked, "If that's the case, then how did you graduate at the age of 13?"

"I've graduated from the curriculum," Justin said. "Not the school itself."

"Students attend class and go on missions for the school, but one of our main goals is the formation of a powerful weapon. The weapon has to meet specific qualification and, as a result, creating one is a difficult and long process. Most people in the academy will never meet that goal, in fact, right now, only seven partnerships have managed to create one," here, the boy paused a few seconds before saying, "I'm the eighth and most recent student to create one. And I am the only person who's ever done it without a partner in the history of the school. I also hold the record for being the youngest person to create one."

Dumbledore stared at the boy as he processed the information. It was all so vague, but shocking at the same time. Forming a weapon? Dedicating one's soul? What was that even supposed to mean? It sounded more like cult than a school.

"Sir?" the boy said, as Dumbledore's thoughts lead to a long pause.

Dumbledore shook his head and began talking, "Apologies Mr. Law. My mind was wandering."

"I understand," Justin replied. "Do you have any questions?"

"I'm sure that I will," Dumbledore said. "However, I don't think you're finished."

The boy nodded. "Alright, then I'll continue. At the DWMA we don't learn magic like you do and we don't learn what we learn just for knowledge's sake either. Every student who enters the Academy is there for one purpose, to destroy Corrupted Human souls that appear throughout the world."

"What does that mean?" Dumbledore asked.

"A Corrupted human is a human that has chosen to consume the souls of other humans. In doing so they can grow in power. But, at the same time, their own soul becomes twisted and warped. Eventually, they become something that isn't human at all."

The boy looked him straight in the eyes, "Tom Marvolo Riddle, alias, Lord Voldemort, is a corrupted soul. He has chosen to consume the souls of seven humans and formed seven of what your kind would call Horcruxes."

Dumbledore's eyes shut and he brought his hands up to rub his temples. "Then it is as I feared," he said.

"It's worse," Justin replied. "I don't think you truly know what a horcrux is."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed in concern, "I don't claim to be any sort of expert in the Dark Arts, but isn't a horcrux formed when a person chooses to murder another in cold blood? And then that leads to the soul fracturing?"

Justin's head was shaking before the headmaster had even finished the explanation. "If only. Supposing his soul really had been split into several pieces, he'd be much weaker and that much easier to defeat. It is the soul that supplies magical energy after all."

"No, a horcrux is much worse than that. What really happens is, the murderer attaches a small strand of their soul to the soul of their victim. Using that anchor, their soul seeps into the other soul and then begins to slowly take it over until eventually, all the other person's spiritual and magical energy is completely converted to the Dark Wizard's use, which hugely increases their magical potential and makes it impossible to kill them until all of their extra reserves are destroyed."

"To put it simply, Voldemort has eight souls, so he has the magical power of eight people," the boy continued, "Luckily, I believe that Voldemort doesn't yet realize that and only sees his Horcruxes as a way to prolong his life, not increase his magical ability. However, should he realize that he has seven reserves of power sitting around, waiting to be used, he could become a serious threat."

The boy paused in his narration and regarded Dumbledore with a serious expression. "I believe that is why my Headmaster is so determined to have him destroyed as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the more time we give Voldemort to figure out that he's fighting at only 1/8th of his potential strength."

Dumbledore wished he could be skeptical, but the boy seemed so assured. And his story didn't have any noticeable holes.

But, the alternative, that the boy was telling the truth, it was alarming. Could Voldemort really become that much more powerful?

"Mr. Law," Dumbledore said, with a worried expression. "I think I believe you, but I must ask for more proof. Will you swear under an unbreakable oath that what you say is the truth? And that, if I bring you into my confidence, you will not betray me?"

"I will swear that what I am telling the truth, and I will also swear to do everything in my power to help you defeat Voldemort. But, my loyalty lies elsewhere. I will not swear myself to your service."

The headmaster nodded. "Of course, that is acceptable. I did not expect you to."

"Hold out your arm Mr. Law."

Justin complied with the request and the two grasped each other's arms.

A wand wave and binding fire completed the oath between Phoenix and Death.

Dumbledore smiled at Justin as the flames faded.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Law."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So this was originally going to be two chapters, but I decided to combine them, hopefully the flow isn't too awkward. Anyways, I have the first 50ish pages of this story written so updates should be pretty regular for awhile. Thanks to everyone who added this story to various lists and took the time to review. I really appreciate it.  
><strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Dumbledore knew that his decision to hire Justin wouldn't be a popular one. But after forming an oath to help each other fight the war, the headmaster had tested the boy's magical ability and drilled him on how he was going to structure his lessons and everything had been more than acceptable. Justin was an extremely gifted wizard and Dumbledore didn't it find it hard to see why he was one of the most talented students at his home school.

Speaking of which, he still didn't know very much about the DWMA, but Justin had hinted that he'd get to learn more soon. It was all very mysterious, and Dumbledore wasn't sure he could agree with what little of the school's policies he'd learned of, but he decided to withhold judgement until he knew more.

As for Justin himself, well, the boy was odd. The way he dressed and his mannerisms, the complete - Dumbledore could only describe it as, adoration - he seemed to have towards his mysterious "lord" (Who Dumbledore was strongly beginning to suspect was the Headmaster of the boy's school.), and his knowledge of an obscure Dark Ritual, it was all very strange.

But the boy was talented and he had sworn to help. And Dumbledore really needed all the powerful allies he could get.

The headmaster reached into the candy bowl on his desk and pulled out a lemon drop and stared at it contemplatively.

It would be easy to ignore the boy's oddities.

Dumbledore popped the candy into his mouth and gazed around the room. The pulsing sound of rotating gears was present as always and three of his machines were shooting out bursts of colored smoke.

The headmaster smiled.

Because, yes, the boy was strange, but he didn't have any room to talk.

* * *

><p>He'd never really been partial to magic before, but he was beginning to see how useful it could be in certain situations. Decorating his new classroom, for example.<p>

His interview with Dumbledore had gone well and he was, officially, Hogwart's newest professor. As a result, he been given a classroom, an office and living quarters (a bedroom, a sitting area, a bathroom and a small kitchen) to do whatever he pleased with. His luggage at the Leaky Cauldron had been sent over and it had only taken a few flicks of his piece of wood to unpack it all.

Dumbledore had told him that he would be introduced to the other teachers at dinner, which was in a little less than an hour. So, rather than sit around, he was contemplating what he wanted to do with his classroom.

Considering the current political climate of Magical Britain, putting a giant picture of Lord Death's mask probably wasn't the best idea. The last thing he wanted to be accused of was being a Death Eater (It made him shudder every time he thought about them. What a completely blasphemous name!). But that didn't mean he couldn't design his classroom using a very DWMA theme. Decorating really wasn't something in his skill set so trusting his Lord's taste instead was the obvious solution.

Justin held his wand up and loosely in front of him. This was going to be the most difficult bit of spellwork he'd ever attempted, but it would also going to be a good opportunity to practice before his classes started.

He waved his wand, omitting any vocalization of spells (remembering all the words was much more difficult than just making magic happen) and the room instantly began changing.

The ceiling came first, shooting straight into the air, rising to at least twenty feet. A similar expansion was made on all sides of the room and tiers of benches and desks shot up. They folded themselves into a semi-circle, to form a slight curve around a raised platform with a desk and a chalkboard, which he planned to lecture off of. Black pillars rose around the edges of the room, reaching up to the ceiling in evenly spaced rows. Circular windows filled in the spaces between the pillars and a black and white checkerboard tile pattern snaked its way across the floor.

A few more flicks of his wand added some purely aesthetic details, candles lined the ends of the desks, some wood paneling fixed itself a third of the way up the wall, black crown molding lined the ceiling etc. Overall it was almost identical to his old classrooms at the DWMA. The only real difference was the size (it was a little smaller, only two tiers of desks instead of four) and that in place of the DWMA's logo, was the crest of Hogwarts, embossed into the wall just a little above the chalkboard.

He made a quick circuit around the room, looking it over for any flaws, but he was satisfied for the most part.

Less satisfactory was that fact that he'd procrastinated long enough. Dumbledore wanted to introduce him at dinner which, looking at the clock he'd conjured into existence, meant he needed to be outside the great hall in about ten minutes.

The urge to skip dinner was strong, he didn't particularly enjoy meeting new people, especially without his headphones. But he knew was going to have to get to know the rest of the staff eventually.

Better to get it over with as soon as possible or, at least, that's what he was going to keep telling himself.

* * *

><p>During the summer, the professors sat around a circular table while eating as it made conversation easier. The Great Hall seemed empty without all the students but the break from the general mayhem that normally filled Hogwarts was appreciated.<p>

It was almost dinner time and the teachers, all back from their own summer holidays, were beginning to filter into the room, but they took their time getting to their seats as they visited with each other. Quiet conversation filled the room.

The doors opened again and the headmaster walked in followed closely by a young man in a very strange outfit.

"Everyone, this is Professor Law, he'll be taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts position," Dumbledore said.

"It's good to meet you all," the boy said, giving a short bow to the assembled crowd.

A few teachers mumbled replies but most of them were more concerned with scrutinizing their newest colleague. He was, very young, and the wasn't even the most noticeable thing about him. It was probably his outfit that took that prize.

Was this some sort of joke?

"Is this some sort of joke?" Snape obviously thought so.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean Severus," Dumbledore replied.

"You expect us to believe that you've hired some _boy_ to teach?" Snape said.

The other professors wouldn't have phrased it so bluntly, but a few found themselves nodding in agreement with the question.

"I do, because I have," he said. "I have every confidence in Professor Law's ability."

"What ability? He doesn't even look of age."

"I'm seventeen years old," the boy said. "I would apologize sir, but I don't know what I've done to offend you. That said, I hope we'll be able to work well together in the future."

"I'm sure you will," Dumbledore said giving Snape a pointed look. "Now then, why don't we all sit down and get to know each other a little better," the headmaster said, clapping twice. As he did so, food appeared on the table and the assembled professors began taking their seats.

They began piling food onto their plates and spoke quietly with their neighbors, but they all kept shooting the occasional glance at Justin, who was doing a very good job of appearing nonchalant about all the obvious attention.

Eventually everyone's plate was filled but the newest professor was ignoring his silverware in favor of his silver cross. He held it to his face and inclined his head minutely over it. His mouth moved in silent prayer for several minutes and the other Professors weren't quite sure whether or not it was polite for them to start eating.

For a solid three or four minutes they stared awkwardly around each other wondering what they were supposed to do before Law's eyes opened and he dropped the necklace.

He looked around at them and smiled. "I appreciate the courtesy, but please, don't feel obligated to wait on my behalf."

The professors nodded before beginning to eat. An awkward silence had descended on the room as the teachers contemplated their latest colleague.

Young and religious had not been something they'd expected out of the newest professor. Oddities aside though, they were interested in the boy and eventually, Professor Sprout broke the silence.

"Can you tell us a little about yourself, Professor Law?"

The boy set down his fork and smiled at her. "Of course, I'd be happy to. My full name is Justin Law, and, as you know, I'm seventeen years old."

Snape's lip curled into a sneer.

"My parents were both French, but I was adopted by an American couple when I was seven so I was schooled there," Justin said. And joining the DWMA had been the best thing to ever happen to him. His parents had died when he was six, and the people who adopted him had been...well he still didn't like to think about it. It was only after Death had found him that he'd started to feel safe again.

"Really? I never would have guessed," Professor Sprout replied. "Your accent is very American."

"French is my first language, and I suppose my first accent as a result, but I learned how to speak with an American one once I moved there," Justin said. He'd learned it to blend in better. A boy with a French accent was much easier to track than a boy with an American one and he'd spent a good portion of his younger life on the run. "It's just habit now."

"What school did you attend, Professor?" Flitwick asked, joining the conversation.

"I went to the DWMA," Justin said.

"You're joking!" Flitwick replied, incredulously.

"Not at all, I joined the school when I was eleven."

"Is that true?" Flitwick asked, turning towards Dumbledore.

"I'm inclined to believe him," Dumbledore said.

"That's, incredible really, I had no idea," Flitwick turned back to Justin. "You have to tell us about it. What does DWMA stand for? It is an acronym, right?"

All the teachers had paused their eating and were giving him expectant and interested looks. Justin realized that he was probably going to have to give them some information if he wanted to build any sort of rapport with them.

He was bad at this kind of thing. He'd always been a bit of a loner, keeping a group of people entertained was really not his cup of tea. But he was on a mission, so he'd have to swallow his discomfort and keep talking.

He smiled politely, (hopefully it didn't look as strained as it felt) and said, "It stands for Wizard and Meister Academy. The D is there for Academy, I honestly don't know why we don't call it WMA."

"Wizard and Meister?" Flitwick asked. "What does that mean?"

"I could ask the same about Hogwarts. Does the name have any special meaning? I haven't been able to figure it out," Justin replied.

Flitwick smiled excitedly. "Oh, now that's the mystery isn't it. No one knows actually."

The professor continued with his narration and even added some of his own speculation while Justin nodded politely along with him.

Inwardly, he was sighing with relief, but something told him that his break from the interrogation would be short-lived.

He had a lot of Q&A sessions in his future.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So Justin's back story and him being French are personal head-cannons. (His weapon form is a _guillotine_ after all.) It's not really relevant to this story but I decided to include it anyways.**

**As always, reviews are awesome and thanks to everyone who's added this story to their various subscription lists.**

**Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it and Happy Early Update to those who don't.**


	4. Chapter 4

42-42-564

The mirror glowed with light before an image of his Lord filled it. Justin had already fallen to his knees and bowed his head by time the image had fully formed.

"My Lord," Justin said. "It is, as always, a pleasure to speak to you."

"Howdy~, Justin!" the Lord of Death replied. "Stand up and tell me how it's goin'."

Justin complied with the order and stood up before saying, "All is well, sir. I've been hired to teach at Hogwarts and Dumbledore has agreed to work with me to track down Voldemort."

"Good~! Good~!" Lord Death said. "Any hiccups?"

"One of the professors seems to dislike me, but I doubt it will be a problem, sir."

"I'm sure your sparkling personality will win him over in no time," Lord Death said, flashing a large thumbs up.

Justin's cheeks grew red at the compliment and he fell to his knees. "Oh Lord! I am unworthy of such praise, truly Your benevolence knows no bounds, I am a merely a humble servant of Your will, all glory should be unto Your name, I-"

"Calm down Justin," Lord Death replied.

"Of course," Justin said, standing up. "Dumbledore is very eager to speak to you, but do you believe it is wise to allow him to do so?" Justin continued as if his outburst hadn't occurred.

Lord Death sweatdropped at the rapid change in the priest's attitude but replied, "Dumbledore is a very powerful leader for the Light. I think that he can be trusted to keep our secrets."

"Of course, sir. I trust your judgement completely. Shall I inform him of a time when you'll be able to speak with him?"

"Yes, that would be most appreciated."

* * *

><p>Justin would have knocked, but the door flew open right as he raised his hand.<p>

Standing in the doorway of the Headmaster's office was a man in a bowler cap, a few people in black robes and a strange...pink...thing...or maybe it was a person, he couldn't tell.

The group looked ready to exit so he nodded to them and moved out of their way. They began walking passed him when the pink thing stopped and turned to look at him.

It raised an eyebrow as it studied him. "And who might you be?" she (or at least the obnoxiously high-pitch voiced led him to assume it was a she) asked. "I didn't know there'd be any students here."

"Oh no. I'm not a student. I'm the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher," Justin held out his hand for her to shake. "Justin Law, at your service."

"You're a professor?" the pink woman replied, ignoring his hand. "How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen, I'll be eighteen within the year though."

"Barely of age then," she sniffed. "I see. Well I'm sure I don't need to remind you to stick to Ministry approved curriculum."

She paused and gave his outfit a quick once-over. "And you may also want to consider revising your wardrobe," she said with a look of disdain. "Good day, Professor."

"Not enough pink for you?" the Death Scythe replied.

"Excuse me?" the Pink-Thing said caustically, turning around to give him a dark look.

"The same to you Madam, I hope you have a good day," he said with a large smile and courteous nod of his head.

The woman looked unconvinced as she replied, "Hmph, yes I'm sure I will."

With that, she continued her descent down the staircase. Justin quirked an eyebrow before turning to enter into the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore was staring past him. His expression was indignation and his eyes, wise, blue and still twinkling, were narrowed. (It was a little bizarre how Dumbledore's eyes allowed managed to sparkle, even when he looked mad.)

"Who is she?" Justin asked.

Dumbledore's irritated expression vanished almost instantly. "Ah Justin! Forgive me, I didn't see you. Have a seat."

"Thank you," Justin said before moving to sit down in one of chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk.

"She's Dolores Umbridge," Dumbledore said, answering Justin's previous question. "And, as of a few minutes ago, she became Hogwarts' Auditor of General Business."

"Auditor? That sounds ominous."

"It does nothing to inspire optimism at any rate. I'm sorry you had to be introduced to her so suddenly," Dumbledore continued. "I would have warned you first. She wanted your job so don't be too surprised if she goes out of her way to your time here difficult."

"She'd do that?" Justin asked. "That seems unprofessional."

"The Ministry isn't what is used to be," Dumbledore paused before shaking his head. "But I suppose that's a problem for another day. I'm assuming you're here for a reason."

"I am. You're expressed a desire to speak with my Headmaster," Justin said. "I've spoken with him recently and he has agreed to do so."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said. "When and how?"

"If you are not busy," Justin said. "Right now."

"Excellent, that is more than fine."

"Good," Justin said. "All we need is a mirror. The larger the better."

Dumbledore nodded and conjured a large, and ornately carved, floor mirror. Justin stood up and walked over to it. The Defense Professor angled himself in front of the mirror, blocking Dumbledore's view, and then wrote something on it with his finger.

The boy stepped back as the mirror filled with blue ripples and white light.

"Yo~Wassup!" A high pitched voice filled the room before the mirror cleared.

As it did, Dumbledore was greeted by a very odd sight.

Standing in the mirror was a large, angular, black...shape wearing a white mask. It was more stylized and cartoonish looking then a Death Eater mask but the similarities were alarming.

"Oh Lord!" Justin said, falling to the ground and practically prostrating himself on it.

Dumbledore wasn't sure how to respond to that, but as he stared at the shape's mask, he realized that it was the same as the design on Justin's cross. Was the shape also wearing it for religious purposes? Although based on Justin's reaction, that didn't really make sense; did he actually worship the Headmaster of his school?

"We'll skip that today Justin," the black shape said.

Justin stood up immediately, "Yes sir."

He turned to Dumbledore, "Headmaster Dumbledore, this is the leader of the DWMA, Lord Death."

"Lord Death?" Dumbledore said, with a raised eyebrow and doubtful tone.

"Death personified, at your service," the shape replied. "Nice to meetcha'. If you don't mind, I'd like to skip the shocked incredulity and move straight on to business."

"I agree," Justin said. "How any could doubt your word is beyond me anyway."

"Good, then we have the majority vote," the black shape was practically bouncing in place and it's comically large hands were gesturing wildly. Dumbledore couldn't figure out how it was balancing on such a thin piece of fabric. "Let's move on to business."

"I think," Dumbledore said. "That a unanimous vote may be more appropriate, considering the circumstances."

"Oh~ya' think so?" the shape, claiming to be Death, said. "Hmm...alright then! What's your vote Headmaster Dumbledore?"

"While I hate to waste time," Dumbledore replied, "I can't help but be a little incredulous. Some explanation may be necessary before we move on to more important matters."

"Sounds tedious, but we got ta' do what we got ta' do," Death replied. "What are your questions?"

"I suppose the most obvious one would be what you mean by 'death personified'," Dumbledore said with a calm smile.

"And here I thought that one had the most obvious answer," Death replied. "Death Personified really isn't a great name though, sorta wordy. Let's see, I've also been called Grim Reaper, Shinigami, Jabru, Hades, Pluto, Nga, and lotsa other stuff too. But the most straightforward title in English would be the God of Death."

"God of Death?" Dumbledore asked.

"A most glorious and benevolent God," Justin said as his hands came to clasp his cross. "Truly, there is no one greater on this Earth, to be given the privilege of standing in His presence brings me unimaginable joy, I-"

"Justin," the Reaper said, cutting him off.

The Death Scythe dropped the cross and bowed his head. "Of course Lord, I apologize for interrupting."

"Justin here can be a little overzealous at times, but he is one of my most powerful students," Death said, addressing Dumbledore. "I'm sure he'll be a huge asset to your war if you work well with him."

Justin's face was glowing at the compliments from his Lord and he was having a hard time not falling to his knees and praising the Reaper profusely. Dumbledore, on the other hand, just looked inquisitive.

"Student?" Dumbledore asked. "I know that Justin has referred to you as Headmaster, but the," Dumbledore had to pause for a few seconds, "...God of Death...actually has proteges?"

"I have a school!" the Reaper said, waving his hands excitedly. "The DWMA, or Death Weapon Meister Academy, as the case may be, was created by me centuries ago."

"So it's not Wizard and Meister Academy?" Dumbledore asked, filing the centuries comment away for further thought.

"That would hardly be appropriate as my students aren't actually wizards," Lord Death said.

"Oh?" Dumbledore said. "Justin mentioned before that the DWMA teaches a different kind of magic."

"In a way, yes. Although magic really isn't the most accurate term," the Reaper held a single finger to his mask, which was actually managing to look thoughtful. "Hmm...well Justin's already told you that we reap corrupted souls, correct?"

"His verbiage was a little different," Dumbledore replied. "But yes, he has."

"Do you remember my explanation of the idea behind having a student with Ability A and Ability B?" Justin said, joining the conversation.

"I do."

"Well, a student with ability A is called a Meister. A student will ability B is called a Weapon," Justin said. "And when I say weapon, I literally mean weapon. Some students of the Academy have special bloodlines which allow them to transform from a human form to a weapon form. In some cases they'll be scythes, others guns or swords or anything really. There are several Weapons at the school and all have a unique Weapon form."

"Fascinating!" Dumbledore said. "And what about Meisters?"

"Meisters are the ones who wield the weapons they're partnered with," Death said, taking over the explanation. "It's a very deep partnership, as both Weapon and Meister have to trust each other completely. The two work together to hunt down corrupted souls and grow stronger. And with every soul they collect the more powerful they become."

"And eventually they are able to form a very powerful weapon?" Dumbledore asked, remembering Justin's previous explanation of the school. _(one of our main goals is the formation of a powerful weapon) _"Do you mean that the "powerful weapon", is actually a student?"

"Yes, that's correct," Justin said.

"When a partnership collects a certain amount of souls, then they create something known as a Death Scythe," the Reaper said. "A Death Scythe is a powerful weapon that has the ability to be wielded by me personally."

"Lord Death's soul is too powerful for Him to partner with a normal weapon. Death Scythes have stronger souls which makes it possible for them to withstand His soul wavelengths without having their own souls destroyed," Justin said.

"That being said, I only keep one Death Scythe with me at a time. The rest are in stationed in different continents and lead the Meisters and Weapons stationed in the area," Death said. "Justin is in charge of our European Branch."

Dumbledore turned to look at Justin with a shocked expression. "You're a Death Scythe?"

"The youngest one in Academy history," Death said. "He's also the only person to do it without a Meister partner too. It was extremely impressive really. Justin's a bit of a legend here at the Academy."

"Lord, I am unworthy of such praise," Justin said. "I only wanted to better serve."

As Dumbledore observed the two, he found it harder and harder to think of Justin as being only seventeen. He worked with teenagers on a regular basis, and none were that humble. It was mildly shocking, seeing someone so young be so devout.

"You're doing a fine job Jus-"

"Lord Death!"

The Reaper was cut off as a red-haired man ran into the room.

"Lord Death! We have an emergency!" the redhead said, as he put his hands on his knees and bent over to catch his breath.

"What?" Lord Death replied.

"I-" the red head paused and looked at the mirror. "You have call going-is that Justin?"

"Hello Spirit," Justin said.

"Hey Justin," the red head, Spirit, said. "I'm sorry, but I have to cut your call short. We have a serious problem here."

"Of course," Justin said. "Lord Death, we will most likely contact you later."

He bowed low as the image faded out.

Dumbledore sat down with a weary sigh. "The God of Death? Did I really just speak to the God of Death?"

"Yes," Justin said, straightening up. "You have been most blessed."

"I," Dumbledore shook his head. "It is a lot to take in Mr. Law."

"Is it?" Justin asked. "I would have assumed that someone carrying something of my Lord's would find the concept of a personified death easy to believe."

Dumbledore's eyes widened and he pulled his wand out of his pocket.

"You mean?"

"That wand is amazingly powerful," Justin said. "And it gives off an extremely potent aura that is very similar to my Lord's. I sensed it the first time I saw you."

He continued. "I would careful where you use that wand, Headmaster. To those who know what to look for, that wand is like a flare. It definitely has the potential to attract the attention of the wrong kind of people."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, there is a long and bloody history behind this wand."

"That does not surprise me at all," Justin said. "Anyways, I apologize that our call was cut short."

"More time to think about what I have learned isn't necessarily a bad thing in this case," the Headmaster replied. "It is no trouble."

"Then if you don't need anything else, I will leave you to your thoughts. If you have any questions please feel free to contact me. I'll most likely spend the rest of the day getting my lessons in order."

"Thank you, Professor. I wish you luck in your planning."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The Ministry is here (and they're going to start making problems fast), Dumbledore and Justin both have an idea of what's going on and what to do next, and everyone else is in the dark. This chapter sort of marks the end of the exposition, aka, "The Boring Stuff". The next chapters are much more interesting.**

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and an especially big thanks to Berlin and little puppy for reviewing every chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

He'd been at Hogwarts for a little under two weeks. His classroom was set up. His lessons were planned, prepped and ridiculously over-prepared for.

He was waiting again. He was a little sick of waiting. This mission had more downtime than up and it made him shudder when he realized how behind he'd be on _everything _when it was over.

And even though he did everything he could to deny it to himself, he was a teenage boy, a fairly active, constantly on the move one at that and so he was bored, stir crazy and impatient for the world to _get on with it. _

Sure, Hogwarts was interesting to explore, but the DWMA was easily twice as large, making Hogwarts far less daunting in comparison. Another factor that contributed to the ease with which he could get around Hogwarts was his soul percept, which allowed him to pin-point anyone in the building. Those beacons made it even easier to find his way around. Hospital Wing - Madam Pomfrey's soul was a pale blue with a calm song that often stayed in a tower on the fourth floor. Dungeons - Professor Snape's music was deep and mournful and almost always underground. Quidditch Pitch - Madam Hooch had a very exuberant melody that spent a lot of time zipping around the grounds. Certain statues, pictures and other miscellaneous decor were also saturated with energy he could see and hear very easily, (Dumbledore's office was a very loud ball of brightly colored neon light) creating even more points with which to orientate himself.

But, while the majority of Hogwart's novelty had worn off, the library, which he was currently in, was somewhere he didn't mind spending his time. He'd rather be out purifying corrupted souls, he'd rather be out _working_, but reading had always been one of his favorite leisure activities.

He'd tried conjuring instruments to play and music to listen to, but magic just couldn't get it(the sound, the tone, the feel?) right, despite the number of times he'd tried during the past few weeks. On the other hand, books were books, magical or not, and Hogwart's library had a huge collection of books he'd never even heard of, let alone had the opportunity to read.

However, the book he was currently reading, _A Comprehensive Study of the Magical Society of England (1707; The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland) In Modern Times VOL XXIV: 1723-1764,_ was a little dry and he found himself glancing up and looking around the room, more than he was his book.

Bookshelves towered around him, all double and in some cases triple stacked with books. He smiled and couldn't help but think, not for the first time, that if he had a slightly less duty-driven life, he could probably cheerfully spend the rest of it in Hogwarts' library, provided he could get his headphones to work.

(Not that he'd want to change it. A life of books or a life spent in service to the Lord of Death? No contest, nothing could ever compare to that.)

Besides the bookshelves, there was also some randomly distributed furniture, mainly heavy wood tables and chairs, the occasional lamp, and thick curtains. The room was a little dark for somewhere people were expected to read in, but Justin could only assume that was to protect the books from sun and other light damage.

He'd met Madam Pince, and he could already tell that the safety of her books would mean more to her than the eyesight of any student ever would.

She'd actually been unwilling to even let him, a _professor_, near her books. (It probably had something about his outfit which, he was realizing more and more with every incident, was extremely off putting to most wizards.) She and he had formed a sort of shaky agreement though and they left each other alone for the most part. Occasionally she'd find an excuse to wander to his corner near the back of the library and give him suspicious glares but, most of the time, they were largely indifferent to each other.

Realizing that he was allowing his mind to wander again, Justin turned back to his book. He'd wanted to learn more about wizarding history and culture, he'd only been interacting with them for a few months after all, but he was beginning to think that a forty volume set of history textbooks might not have been the best way to go. He'd managed to get through about half of them, in between other things he'd been reading, but they were the epitome of stale and lifeless literature. How the author had managed to take some of the most influential events in the world, _add_ _magic_, and then have them be some of the most boring things he had ever read about, he didn't know. But somehow, it had been done.

He was determined to make his way through the series now that he'd already finished over half of them, but the idea was seeming less and less appealing.

"Professor Law?"

Justin looked up from his book again and around the room. A huge stack of books was floating towards him. The charms Professor was walking behind the stack with his wand held in front of him.

"Hello Professor Flitwick," Justin said.

"It's good to see you," the small Charms master said, with a smile. "I didn't expect anyone else to be in the library today."

"I've been spending a lot of time in here the past week or so."

"I'm glad to hear it," Flitwick said. "It's good to see a young person, such as yourself, enjoying books. May I join you for a little bit?"

"Feel free," Justin said, gesturing to the seat next to him. He picked up his wand, which had been lying on the table, and flicked it at the messy pile of books he had accumulated. The books floated up and hovered in the air for a little bit before forming themselves into a neat stack to the side of the table, leaving enough room for the charms Professor to set his own stack down.

"So Professor, are you reading with purpose or for pleasure?" Professor Flitwick asked.

"A bit of both," Justin replied. He turned the title of his book so that the other professor could see it. "I'm reading for fun, but am also trying to learn more about the history of magic here."

"Volume twenty-four?" Flitwick asked as he looked at the cover. "Have you read all the previous volumes too?"

"Yes," Justin said. "With some difficulty."

"I would expect so," Flitwick replied, sounding incredulous. "I haven't met anyone who's made it through the whole set or even through the first ten, to be honest."

The Professor continued, "they're charmed, you see," he said. "The entire set is layered with a variety of spells designed to make them hard to read. Distraction charms, notice-me-not spells, I think the author even invented a spell that creates a feeling of artificial boredom as soon as the books are opened."

"That seems bizarrely counterproductive," Justin said, adding his own incredulity to the conversation. "Why bother writing a book if you don't want people to read it?"

Flitwick laughed. "Because he didn't want people to read it, the author wanted people to buy it. He sold thousands of copies. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, in wizarding UK has a set. They were all the rage fifty or so years ago. Everyone wanted to be the one who finished all forty volumes. A few people got close, maybe a few people even finished it, although I don't know anyone personally who did. But even now that the 'fad' has faded so to speak, people still buy them because it's been universally accepted that everyone has to have a copy in their home."

"How strange," Justin said, shaking his head. Sometimes, it was hard, understanding magic-users.

"It ended up working out well for him in the end," the Charms professor smiled. "Anyways, ignore my babbling. I'll let you get back to your reading."

* * *

><p>Reading was proving more and more difficult. He was less and less engaged with every turn of the page and, despite what the professor had said, he was very chatty, and didn't seem likely to let Justin 'get back to his reading' anytime soon.<p>

That said, Justin didn't mind, as the Charms Professor was much more interesting than his book.

"I was quite the dueler in my day. That sort of thing if frowned upon now, but I certainly enjoyed it in my youth."

"I've never fought in a formal duel," Justin said. "At the DWMA, duels between students are common, and even encouraged by the teachers, but my reputation stopped anyone from challenging me."

Oh, he'd said a little too much there.

"Your school encourages dueling between students?" Flitwick asked.

"Very much," Justin replied. "It's a good way to gain real combat experience."

"Interesting," Flitwick said. "Hogwarts tried to start a dueling club a few years ago, but it didn't even make it through one meeting before the whole program collapsed."

"Hopefully that won't happen this year," Justin continued, "I was going to incorporate aspects of it into my class. There's no point in learning spells if you can't use them in a situation where you'd actually need them."

"That's fantastic, Professor," Flitwick said. "Dueling has long been a part of the Defense Against the Dark Arts program, it's only due to recent ministry intervention that it was stopped. I've never understood it myself, but I'm glad to hear that it will be brought back. If you need any help, let me know," the Charms Professor smiled, "It's been awhile, but I bet I could whip myself back into shape for a demonstration or two."

"I'd appreciate that, Professor Flitwick."

"Speaking of classes, I just remembered something I need to do to get ready for mine," Flitwick said. "I'll take my leave now, Professor."

"Thank you for your company," Justin replied.

"My pleasure," Flitwick said. "I've enjoyed talking to you. You're a very mature young man. I'll see in the Great Hall tonight."

* * *

><p>Justin cast a quick spell and glowing numbers 5 2 and 7 appeared in front of him. 5:27 - Dinner wouldn't be served for another half hour or so, but he was looking for an excuse to stop reading about the history of England's magic anyways.<p>

He stood up and flicked his wand. All the books he'd grabbed jumped back to their spots on the shelves. He watched them all return to their places and shook his head.

Magic was making him lazy, but he was having a hard time disliking the convenience of it.

He stood up and exited the library. The Death Scythe walked through a few halls and down several staircases before reaching the Great Hall. He entered the dining room and sat down at his spot, a few minutes later found the majority of the other teachers joining him around the table.

A few more minutes found him bowed over his plate and praying as the teachers around him courteously lowering their volume but not pausing as they had when he had first gotten there.

"Is prayer the norm for you at meals, _Mister_ Law?"

Justin stopped and looked up, a little surprised that someone had interrupted him.

Dolores Umbridge gazed smugly back at him from across the table.

Ah, that explained the omission of "Professor" in front of his name.

She was dressed in another pile of pink fur, and she had more rings on her fingers then she had digits. How she had even managed to wrap her fingers around the fork she was holding was something he'd never be able to figure out.

Pink and _rude_.

Probably two of his least favorite things in the world.

...but he wasn't the petty type, his answer was as cordial as ever.

"That's correct. I pray prior to every meal, and before I go to bed and after I wake up, and also whenever the urge strikes me. In fact, I haven't finished this one yet, but I would be happy to pick up this conversation afterwards."

"Oh, of course," she said, tone simpering and wide grin insincere. "I apologize for interrupting."

Sickeningly sarcastic, and completely girlish; her voice was beyond high pitched. It grated just a bit on his slightly heightened senses.

He bowed his head again.

"What religion do you practice?"

His head shot back up.

"I worship my Lord in my way," he said, after a few seconds pause. Had she really interrupted him again? "But I was raised Catholic, so I suppose some of that doctrine has bled over into my daily practice."

"And Catholic is a muggle religion?"

"The Roman Catholic Church, _Catholicism_," he gave her a look to make sure she caught the correction, "is very large. It does have a significantly larger percentage of muggles but it's not entirely exclusive."

"Ah, I see," Umbridge said.

Justin nodded and closed his eyes, meaning to return to his prayer.

"The reason why I ask, is because I question how appropriate your attire is."

His eyes flashed open.

"I mean, it is rather dreary, _deary_. And it may make some of the students uncomfortable. You may be, but not all of us are Catholicisms you know."

He stared at her incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"Well, surely I don't have to spell it out for you. I think that teachers should keep personal beliefs out of education. More specifically, I think you should wear something else while you're teaching here at Hogwarts."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. So he didn't

Petty or not, two could play at blatantly ignoring common courtesy.

"Oh Lord, who dwelleth in the Holy City," he intoned, loudly. The rest of the teachers looked over at him in shock. "May thy name be kept true. As I go about this meal, oh Lord, I beseech thee. Bless it, that it may nourish and strengthen this body. This vessel is thine to command, a servant to do thy sacred work. Bless it with health, oh Lord, only so that it may better serve thee."

He continued in a similar vein for a solid twenty minutes, much to the astonishment of his fellow professors. As he prayed, his volume fluctuated, but after the start, remained quiet enough to not disturb the other teachers.

That said, the message was clear.

_Madam Umbridge, I really don't care._

She, on the other hand, was fuming at the obvious dismissal.

As he finished, she angrily snapped, "I am Hogwarts' Auditor," and then continued, her voice taking on a falsely saccharine tone. "So I do hope you'll be wearing something more professional, the next time I see you, _deary_."

The '_or_ _else'_ went unspoken.

* * *

><p>"Can she do that?"<p>

"His clothes aren't that bad."

"How rude of her."

"Can she do that?"

"How completely insensitive of her."

"I agree, completely inappropriate."

Justin sat quietly amongst the storm of conversation around him, arms folded, legs crossed, eyes closed and faced straight ahead.

Tuning it all out. Trying to, at least.

How...frustrating. He missed his headphones.

Too many people. Too much noise.

The subject matter of the noise was a little ironic though. The other Professors, coming to the defense of his clothes of all things. Considering how put off they seemed to be by them, it was interesting how ready they were to criticize Umbridge's own disapproval.

It made sense, he supposed. If she could censure him, she could censure all of them. They were looking out for themselves as much as they were him.

"Enough," Dumbledore said, officially getting the impromptu staff meeting (minus the newest member) started.

"Headmaster," Flitwick said. "Is she really allowed to regulate something like our wardrobes?"

"Officially no. She is only here to observe and suggest ways for us to improve," Dumbledore said.

"However, should she feel she is being ignored, then Madam Umbridge has the ability to appeal to the Minister and, with his backing, her suggestions could become code so to speak."

"So, if the Ministry gets involved, we have to listen," Snape said.

"Precisely."

"That's outrageous, what right does the Ministry have to tell us how we should run our school?" Professor Sprout said.

"Can't you do something, Albus?" Mcgonagall said.

"My hands are tied. I've done everything I can to prevent our Auditor's appointment."

"Ridiculous. The ministry is far overstepping its authority."

Justin's eyes remained closed. Politics. He wasn't here to get involved in politics of all things.

That said, it was becoming more and more apparent that Dumbledore's prediction, that Mme. Umbridge was going to go out of her way to make problems for him, was quickly proving true.

He was going to have to get involved, at least a little bit.

But, he was the head of the DWMA's European Branch. And Europe, being fairly large place, with a fairly diverse population, kept him on his toes. Loyal members of the DWMA or not, its branch members were still people and knowing how to keep everyone happy, with both him and each other, was just as much a part of his job as collecting malignant souls.

So, he knew how to play politics, even if he didn't particularly enjoy it, and, as far as he could see, he had a few options.

On one hand, if he refused Umbridge's suggestion/subtle threat, and she did kick up a fuss, it would set a precedent that would make it even easier for her to control him. If she appealed to the Minister and managed to make a decree about his clothes of all things, then she'd be able to regulate anything he did. On the other hand, if she backed down, then he would set his own precedent of not giving into her demands and she might give up after awhile.

And then there was option two. He could give up instead. Fighting over an outfit, of all things, was petty. He could change his clothes, in fact, Lord Death had even suggested he do so. But if he did, then he gave her instant but authority over him.

He didn't want his first major interaction with her to be a complete "Yes Ma'am."

He also didn't want to open any avenues for her to make his mission any more difficult. And he had more than himself to think about. This was her first action as an Auditor, period. How he responded would influence all of her decisions to come.

"Professor Law."

He opened his eyes and looked at Dumbledore.

"Headmaster."

"I'm curious to know what your opinion is on this."

Justin's arms stayed folded, but he learned forwards a little. "Changing my clothes would be inconvenient, but not the end of the world. It's the connotations behind doing so that worry me."

"I'm glad you're willing to be flexible, Professor," Dumbledore replied with a smile, but the grave nod he subtly sent with it confirmed that the Headmaster shared his concerns.

How much power could they afford to give this woman?

"I'll follow your lead, sir," Justin shrugged.

And really that was the only true option available to him. He was just going to have to trust Dumbledore. He was outside of his jurisdiction and a little outside of his knowledge base. Were they upset because Madam Umbridge was unfairly exerting Ministry power or because she had she had the audacity to even suggest she had that kind of authority? i.e Was he worrying over nothing, and could continue as he was, or did he have to listen and obey for the duration of his stay?

...

Well, no matter what happened, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

He had a _real_ mission. One self-righteous auditor wasn't a huge worry of his.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the wait. I had planned to upload this chapter a lot earlier, but real life has a way of getting in the way of my writing goals. Anyways, I have a question for those of you who live in the UK or know anything about it. Is Madam a fairly common form of address/title over there? We pretty much never use it in America, so I was curious. **


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